


And Yet To Lose Is Also To Win

by orphan_account



Category: Star Ocean: Integrity and Faithlessness
Genre: M/M, Semi-public Oral Sex and Rivalry Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:53:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22244386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Ted has finally bested Fidel in a duel, or so he thinks.
Relationships: Fidel Camuze/Ted
Kudos: 7





	And Yet To Lose Is Also To Win

A crashing of wave is met with a clashing of blade. Ocean mist peppers the dock, splashing across wooden planks, slickening their surface. Leather soles squeak sharply with each step as two men lung and parry against one another. To those that do not know of their shared history, they appear to be in the middle of a heated battle but were merely only training. Ted, skilled but delighting too much in theatrics, twirls around like a dancer, his blade slicing the air with an audible hiss. Fidel takes advantage of Ted's exposed stance and strikes him across the shoulder with the blunt side of his broadsword's hilt. The force isn't enough to hurt the other man but Ted still stumbles forward, more out of surprise than anything else. Fidel doesn't give Ted time to recover balance, jutting out an open palm against Ted's back, knocking him down to his knees with a loud thud.

Perhaps on account of youth or more unforgivably in his father's eyes due to a lack of proper guard around friends, Fidel was just as prone to amateurish mistakes. Ted uses the moisture coating the dock to his advantage and performs a sweeping side kick, knocking Fidel down to his level. Ted tosses out a smug quip concerning how the Camuze training hall would benefit more from having Ted as its leader instead of Fidel but he quickly shuts up when Fidel tackles him mid-sentence. Forfeiting good fencing sportsmanship, they opt instead for wrestling which proves difficult albeit not impossible while holding a sword. Some way or another, Fidel's broadsword flies across the dock and out of the ring and adding insult to injury, Ted then punts Fidel squarely in the chest, sending him sprawling flat against the dock. Standing again but visibly shaking, Ted laughs, prideful but straining to gather air in his exhausted lungs, his smile brighter than the summer sun cresting behind him.

 _Beautiful as ever_ , Fidel thinks, nostalgia tinting his already rosy gaze. Had he not been so naturally thirsty for touring distant lands and meeting new people, he might be of the mind to stay grounded in his home town forever.

Suddenly, Ted stabs his sword next to Fidel's head and into a nearby plank but Fidel neither flinches nor turns away, knowing his best friend too well. Instead, he stares into Ted's eyes with a peculiar look most unfitting of someone that had just lost a duel. Looming over Fidel, Ted demands that he accept defeat but Fidel tells him that no such phenomena has occurred. Ted raises an eyebrow, studying for anything that might indicate as such but Fidel may as well have been dead beneath him as motionless as he remained.

A gentle wind blows over the cliffside of Sthal, echoing pleasantly across the coast and through Ted's hair. Ted asks if Fidel is bluffing. Fidel assures Ted that he is not, loftiness accenting his dry tone.

Testing the extent of his rival's focus, Fidel lifts a hand slowly and not at all subtly behind Ted's leg, grazing calf muscle with ghostly fingertips. Ted narrows his gaze, calculating possible battle techniques that might implement such a strange gesture. Emboldened by Ted's lack of action, Fidel moves higher, stroking Ted's thigh with more pressure. Ted's face scrunches up with a quizzical _'what on earth are you trying to pull?'_ expression, boyish curiosity apparently stronger than warrior instinct.

Fidel sits up. There's a long pause gilded by the song of seagulls flying overhead before he finally asks Ted if he remembers that one time at the marketplace. Ted's ears perk up - he doesn't need any clarification, knowing full well what Fidel is alluding to. The redhead glances around hesitantly, scanning for anyone that might be watching but it's early in the morning and much of the town is still asleep. Fidel smirks, nuzzling his nose along the seam of Ted's crotch, breathing in the scent of leather and sweat. Just this small initiating of friction is enough to rev Ted up and when the shadowed silhouette of his cock reveals itself, Fidel greets it with a kiss.

They had this thing where if they ever wanted to fuck in a public space, they had to keep their clothes on lest anyone chance upon the scene. If asked, they could simply say that they were training and no one could be certain that they weren't - ' _practicing a rare art, foreign to Sthal but very powerful',_ Fidel had once muttered lazily to a shocked merchant. There wasn't any real reason behind it; neither Fidel nor Ted had ever expressed aloud to the other that they had that brand of fetish. The two friends just naturally figured out over time that it was something fun to do to let off steam, as entertaining as eating, sleeping, or fighting. 

Fidel mouths along Ted, expertly kneading lips and tongue over the folds of his pants. There's only so much the soldier can do with such a thick barrier between them but his persistence turns Ted on so much that fantasy does most of the work anyway. That and Ted is an admittedly easy opponent to work with in this regard, never having needed long to finish. The swordsman steadies his weight on his weapon, leaning forward into Fidel's warmth. Soon he's coated in a layer of saliva that refuses to soak into his leather pants and instead just trails down them in beaded strands, pooling at his feet in thick wet globs. Fidel's own arousal can be heard between muffled humming and this turns on Ted even more; it fuels his ego as much as his desire to be so eagerly serviced like this and he chokes back a groan of his own. Ted tries his damnedest to keep quiet and Fidel has to admit that he's doing a pretty good job of it all things considering. Fidel massages Ted's ass with both hands, pressing a finger where he supposes the cleft must be. Ted breaks his silence with a curse. Although unable to see the typical bounty that accompanies an orgasm, it's all too apparent to Fidel that Ted is coming as he watches the spasms of his partner's abdomen ripple with increased speed. Satisfied with his work, Fidel chuckles contently and kisses Ted just above his covered navel. 

Cheeks flushed with crimson and panting, Ted insists that Fidel still lost the duel. Fidel shrugs, asking Ted if he has any proof or a witness that would attest to such a bold claim. Ted snorts and throws his sword over his shoulder, offering his free hand to Fidel. Pulling up his partner, he admits that he doesn't but would happily demonstrate his superiority in a rematch if Fidel was going to be such a sore loser over it. _'Best two out of three, eh?'_


End file.
